


Loose Ends

by undun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, feud resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry stood and gazed at the house – it’s windows aglow with electric light, just like all the others that lined the perfectly uniform street. His lips curled up in a wry smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Another cob-webbed ficlet from the back of the mactop.

Harry set down on the ground slowly, his feet scuffing the footpath with a mere whisper of sound. He shrank his broomstick down and tucked it carefully inside his shirt pocket. He stood and gazed at the house – it’s windows aglow with electric light, just like all the others that lined the perfectly uniform street. His lips curled up in a wry smile.

 

Harry thought of all the time he’d spent behind the doors of this house, equal parts misery

and boredom – with some dashes of outright abuse – and the contrast with his other life; what he thought of as his _real_ life in the wizarding world of Britain. His life with the  Dursleys seemed like a partially remembered bad dream. Not quite horrifying enough to be a nightmare, just endless days of discontent and resentment. That was horrifying enough, he supposed.

 

His eyes snapped to the front door when he noticed it opening from the corner of his eye. Harry quickly checked to make sure his invisibility cloak was covering everything, then looked up to see who was emerging from Number 4. It was Dudley, with a bag of rubbish. Right, it was garbage collection tomorrow morning. That used to be Harry’s job, of course; struggling out with a huge load of garbage from the age of four. He peered with interest at Dudley. How had his aunt and uncle persuaded Dudley to leave the telly long enough to do chores?

 

Unaware of his scrutiny, Dudley stomped up the path to open the bin and drop in his burden. He closed the lid and, grabbing the handle of the bin, proceeded up the drive to the footpath. Right where Harry stood, cloaked and immobile.

 

Something made Harry slip the cloak off his shoulders. Dudley’s head swung around to look at him, a high-pitched grunt of surprise escaping his mouth before he sighed with relief. He resumed pulling the bin out to the curb, still looking at Harry. He left the bin and, wiping his hands on his baggy shorts, cautiously approached Harry.

 

“More trouble is there?” Dudley asked.

 

“What?” For a moment Harry had no idea what he was talking about, then remembered the last time he’d seen the Dursleys – they were being moved to a safe location by people from his world. “Oh! No, no – it’s all over now,” he hastened to assure him.

 

Dudley smiled slightly, a little doubtfully as he squinted at Harry in the evening gloom. “You won then? Kicked his arse, did you?”

 

How much did Dudley know? Harry had been reluctant to confide any of his worries to the Dursleys, quite sure that they would simply taunt him with any specific knowledge they had about him. Dudley’s question revealed that he knew Harry had the particular task of defeating Voldemort.

 

“Yeah, I did,” he finally replied in a flat voice. It held no ring of triumph or pride.

 

Dudley continued to squint at his face.  “Reckon that would have been hard for you,” he muttered.

 

To say Harry was surprised by this comment would have been an understatement.

 

“Yeah, it was. I–” Harry halted. Long years of not telling Dudley anything that mattered to him personally at war with his sudden instinct that it was okay to speak now. He took a deep breath. “I lost a lot of friends. In the battle. A lot of people died.”

 

“Right.” Dudley nodded with a frown. “Shame that.”

 

“Yep.” He’d never had a proper conversation with his cousin before. Seventeen years…

 

“Well, thanks,” Dudley blurted.

 

“What?”

 

“Thanks for doing that. ‘Cause I know we’d be down the bog if you hadn’t.”

 

“How do you know that?” Harry asked in confusion.

 

“Those fre–” He coughed and continued. “I mean those people, like you, the ones that took us away…”

 

Harry nodded in understanding.

 

“Well, they talked about it. I picked up some of what was happening, y’know?”

 

“Oh, right. Well, er, you’re welcome.” Harry shook out his cloak, preparing to don it again.

 

“You off?” Dudley asked, his face showing some disappointment.

 

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged and looked around the street, up at the stars just appearing in the sky. “It’s getting late.”

 

“Why did you come back?” Dudley asked with interest, his frown lifting to a puzzled expression.

 

Harry met his stare with a puzzled look of his own. “I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “Passing by, I guess – on my way to Scotland.”

 

“Scotland? Cool.” Dudley shifted his large feet before asking, “See you again then?”

 

“I don’t know, Duds. Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, why not?”

 

Perhaps it was time for a new beginning with Dudley. Something had changed inside his cousin’s head; he appeared to notice what was happening around him at last – at least, in some rudimentary fashion. He flipped the cloak over his head and disappeared from Dudley’s sight.

 

“That’s friggin’ awesome,” said Dudley in respectful tones.

 

“See you, Duds.” Harry took out his broomstick and enlarged it to full size once more.

 

“Yeah. Bye, Po–, uh, Harry.”

 

Harry lifted into the air and left his past behind.

 

***

 

It was two weeks later that Vernon Dursley bellowed in panic, his voice trumpeting through the house as an owl flapped and squawked in outrage while evading his wildly swinging fists.

 

“Out! Out of my house, you bloody bird!”

 

Dudley shambled out of his bedroom where he’d been playing his latest computer game. He wasn’t sorry for the interruption; computer games didn’t seem to hold his attention the way they used to. He stood at the top of the steps watching his father losing it severely with a very persistent owl. He wondered whether the bird was really a victim or whether it was actually taunting his father. Suddenly bird changed direction and shot up the stairs, missing Dudley’s head by an inch. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as the wings beat past him with a surprisingly draft of air.

 

When he opened his eyes his father was panting and holding his hand on his chest, red-faced and staring at Dudley in disbelief. The owl had disappeared.

 

On the floor in front of Dudley’s feet was an envelope. An envelope with his name on it.

 

~oOo~


End file.
